


It's the Tenderness of it All

by Kaijuscientists



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Caring Crowley (Good Omens), First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neglect, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Scenting, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Touch-Starved, Wing Grooming, Wingfic, again kinda sorta, it makes sense in context i promise, kinda sorta?, preening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 17:17:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20261698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaijuscientists/pseuds/Kaijuscientists
Summary: They always say a demons wings are better groomed than an angels.  Well, a certain angel hasn't been touched in years and a certain demon is not going to let him go like that for a second longer.





	It's the Tenderness of it All

“Aziraphale,” Crowley asks, stretched out on the book shops old couch, watching as the angel flutter around from shelf to shelf, not being still for more than a moment. ”You alright?”

Aziraphale peeks from behind the bookshelf he was currently trying to reorganize, quirking an eyebrow at Crowley, “I’m fine, why do you ask?” 

“You just eh, seem really tense, you know, uncomfortable” Crowley says, gesturing with his hand. “I can feel the agitation comin’ off you in waves, angel.”

“I assure you, it’s nothing to worry about.” Aziraphale says primly, popping back behind the shelf, away from Crowley’s prying. 

“But it is something.” Crowley sits up, leaning and almost falling off the couch to try and see the angel in his hiding spot. 

“Just, perhaps a bit of an itch.” Aziraphale concedes, rolling his shoulders unconsciously as he steps out, holding a couple books. “Maybe a little back ache.”

“Your wings? crowley asks. 

“It may be related.” 

“When was the last time you groomed?” He asked, reclining back on to the couch. 

“It's been...,” Azriaphale starts, trailing off as if he needed to think hard about when the last time he had groomed his wings was. “A while.”

“How long is a while?”

Azriaphale mumbled an answer hoping Crowley would drop the subject and move on. But he could never be so lucky. 

“What was that?”

“I said a few centuries!” Aziraphale says briskly,setting his books down on the desk a little to forcefully. 

“What?!” Crowley’s says, jaw dropping in surprise. 

“If your just going to make me feel bad about it,” Aziraphale says, voice wavering a little. ”I’ll ask you to please change the subject and forget you asked in the first place.” He was embarrassed, he didn’t even know what state his wings were in since he’d been so scared to look.

“On the contrary, angel,” Crowley looks sympathetic, he couldn’t imagine going a few weeks without caring for his own wings, let alone years. “I could help you, if you like.” 

”I can’t possible even show you them.” Aziraphale replies sadly. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Crowley. He’d known him for almost 6 whole millennia. Trust was a given after that long. But still he was weary to let anyone see what he’d done to himself, especially when he didn’t know exactly how bad it was himself. 

“I guarantee I have seen worse.” Crowley watches as the angel fidgets with the ring on his pinky, a nervous tell of his. “If you don’t want me to, that’s fine, I’ll drop it.” 

“No, no” Aziraphale sighs, knowing it’ll be better to get on with it. “I just need a moment to uh” He waves his hand in a vague gesture. He doesn’t know what’s exactly, but he just needs a moment. 

He wants to emphatically say yes, because if he’s honest with himself, and he often isn’t, he’d say that he missed the communal grooming in heaven. He hadn’t felt that specific type of care in so long. An now that Crowley has offered, he kicking himself for not thinking to ask him for help in the first place. 

“Take your time.”

“Ok. I’ll show you.” Aziraphale takes a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare himself. “Please don’t make fun,” Aziraphale pleads before the sound of rustling feathers fills the space of the shop. He peeks over his shoulder at his wings and looks away just as fast, shame washing over him in hot waves. 

“Oh…” Crowley says quietly while he pulls if his sunglasses. He wants to make sure he’s seeing what he thinks he is. Aziraphale’s wings were normally ivory in color, with tan speckles, but now they were mostly a dirty mottled gray. They looked dull and dry, almost brittle, as if the barbs would break when touched. There were feathers sticking out at such harsh angles, Crowley almost prayed they were stuck feathers from a molt. If they were actually broken feathers, well, Crowley didn't want to think about that just yet. 

How had he let his angel go so long with his wings in such a state. He feels like he should have know somehow, that something was bothering Aziraphale this badly. 

Crowley thought he had done well and kept his feelings from showing on his face but he obviously had failed. 

“See” Aziraphale frowns, he sounds on the verge of tears. “I knew I shouldn’t have shown you.“ He snaps his wings close to his back, causing papers to fly around him. He turns to slink away to his back room, intending to hide away for the next hundred or so years. 

“Wait, Aziraphale.” Crowley lunges towards him, a hand loosely wrapping around his wrist. “I’m not, I wasn’t, look, I want to help, I know that can’t feel nice.”

“You do?”

“Yes angel,” Crowley says so softly, so fondly. He’d do anything for Aziraphale, if only he asked him.. “Course I do.” Crowley is still holding onto Aziraphale’s wrist, so he lets his hand slide down, until he’s able to intertwine their fingers together. 

“Thank you.”

“Can I ask though, why hasn’t anyone else helped you? Surely there has to be some rule about neglecting a fellow angel.”

“I used to go back upstairs,” Aziraphale says, sadness in his voice, . “But, a lot of the angels, they don’t like me very much anymore. Spend to much time one earth.” An involuntary shudder running down his spine as he remembered how the other angels had pulled and tugged painfully on his feathers, even plucking a few that hadn’t needed to come out. “They started getting, well, a bit rough. I decided that I didn’t have to deal with that.”

“You don’t, you deserve to be treated gently.” Crowley says carefully, not wanting to spook the angel away. “I promise I’ll be very gentle and the second you say so, I’ll stop.” 

Crowley himself hasn’t touched another being so intimately in longer than he can remember. Which is decidedly a long time. Demons, if they were lucky enough to still have their wings, did not go around letting other demons touch, or even see them. It was too dangerous. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to groom Aziraphale as badly as the angel needed it. 

“Do you,”Aziraphale asks shyly. “Take care of your own wings?”

“Weekly.” Crowley’s wings where a source of pride for him. Black, sleek, iridescent in the sunlight. He loved his wings. “So don’t worry, I know what I’m doing angel.”

“How do you reach behind?” He asks, blushing again. The biggest reason he didn’t groom his wings on his own was that he couldn’t reach them a good portion of his feathers. 

“I’m a snake, joints are more of a suggestion for me than anything else.”

That makes aziraphale smile a little. “Ah, yes, that would make it a lot easier. This corporation isn’t quite flexible enough to reach very far back.”

“What do ya say to a bath?” Crowley asks. 

\--------------------

It takes some convincing, but Crowley gets Aziraphale into a nice streaming, bubble bath. A bath that was suspiciously bigger than it had been just moments ago, easily able to accommodate an angel and his wings. 

The bath would serves two purposes. One, Crowley hopes, to put Aziraphale into a more relaxed state and ease the tension in his sore muscles. And two, the angels wings were way past the point of regular grooming. He needed a full bath whether he liked it or not. 

“Why are you keeping them out, put them in the water.” Crowley asks, because Aziraphale was holding his wings above the water at an awkward angle. 

“I never rather liked them getting soaked…” 

“It’ll feel good, I promise you that.“ Crowley smiles fondly, smoothing his hand down Aziraphale’s back, between his shoulder blades. “besides they won’t be completely submerged, just a little bit.”

Crowley presses his knuckles firmly between Aziraphale’s wings, stroking downwards over and over, working the tense knots in the muscles that controlled the wings.

Aziraphale arches his back into the touch, a surprised little moan escaping him as Crowley works his tight muscles. After a minute or two, Aziraphale’s wings droop down into the water. 

“Good?” Crowley asks, satisfied with the nod he gets from the angel. “Gonna take care of the rest of your feathers now.”

The relief that Aziraphale feels when Crowley pours water over his wings is palpable. His shoulders relax, as if a great weight had suddenly been lifted. Water soaked through unprotected feathers, running between the shafts to wash away years and years of built up grime. 

Crowley continues to pour water over the angels wings, gently combing his fingers through to make sure nothing is missed. 

“I can’t believe how many have already fallen out,” Azirphale says, plucking a dripping feather from the water. 

“It’s normal, I promise.” Crowley says. “Normally when you groom they get taken care of. But since someone has had their wings hidden away for a few hundred years they had nowhere to go.”

”I didn’t even know I had a molt.” Aziraphale shrinks in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest. The teasing stung more than it should have. “Probably several given the number of feathers. It was easier to ignore it.” 

“Angel…” Crowley is speechless. A normal molt left one with itchy wings and an ache deep in the bones as new feathers grew in. Not excruciating painful, but it did ache. 

There was only one reason for Aziraphale to not notice that he was molting. And Crowley didn’t like it at all.  
It definitely meant he was downplaying how badly he was affected by his neglected wings. 

“Gonna clean your feathers now,” Crowley warns from his perch on the lip of the tub. Aziraphale glances over his shoulder to see Crowley squeezing some kind of product into his hands. 

“What is that?” 

“‘S’just shampoo,” Crowley rubs his hands together, working the shampoo into a lather. “I use it on my wings if they get especially dirty, it’s good for feathers.”

“That’s alright then” 

Crowley just smiles, warmth flooding across his chest from Aziraphale’s trust. Starting with the primaries, he works lather into each feather in long gentle strokes. One hand gently lifts a wing until Aziraphale gets the idea and holds it aloft and giving him better access. He takes his time, giving over each feather multiples times before he moves on, eventually covering both wings. 

Aziraphale is making contented little sounds the whole time but when he finally digs his fingers into his coverts and starts to massage the skin beneath the feathers the angel makes a sound that could only be called a moan. 

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” He asks hesitantly. 

“Oh no, Crowley, that feels so good” Aziraphale praises. “You’re good at this”.

Crowley can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, Aziraphale’s praise lighting a fire in him, like it always did. “I’ve never done this for anyone else before.” He says softly, combing through Aziraphales soapy feathers one last time before rinsing well. “You wanna give them a shake?”

Aziraphale twitches his wings, and gives them a mighty shake that splays out all his feathers. Water sprays his entire bathroom, but Crowley manages to stay dry with the help of a little demonic miracle. 

“I already feel so much better,“ Aziraphale says, closing his eyes and rolling his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet,” Crowley says, threading his fingers through Aziraphale’s blonde curls. “Tilt your head back for me, angel.” 

“Why, dearest?” He asks, tilting his head back anyway, Crowley’s hand cupping the back of his neck and supporting his head. His question was answered a moment later, when warm water flows gently over his hair. 

When Crowley’s fingers begin to massage his scalp, he forgets to breathe. He could have left him on his own after tending to his wings. But Crowley was always doing kind things for him wasn’t he? Out of the goodness of his heart, though the demon would argue against it. 

Somehow it felt infinitely more intimate than when he had been buried in his feathers minutes ago. A swell of emotion was building in his chest, threatening to claw its way up his throat. 

After washing his angels hair, Crowley grabs a washcloth, dunking it into the warm bath and running it over Aziraphale‘s body, over his arms, across his back, dipping between his wings. 

He and Crowley had shared many touches over the millennia, brushes of fingers, a hand on the small of the back, knees pressed together on the sofa, maybe even a head resting on a shoulder, if enough wine was involved. 

But this was different. Crowley’s touch was so tender and caring. And then there was the love, which pulsed from the demon in waves, threatening to overwhelm him. 

Crowley doesn’t notice that anything is off until Aziraphale sniffles. He peeks over the angels shoulder to find his eyes shining with unshed tears. 

“Hey,” Crowley asks softly, ”what’s wrong? Is this to much? To fast?” His hands still, falling to rest on the edge of the tub as the beginnings of guilt start to settle in his belly. 

”No, no, no.” Aziraphale cuts him off, with a wet laugh. He rubs his eyes, before the tears can fall, but his hands are wet and he ends up getting his whole face wet in the process. “Just a bit… overwhelmed.”

“I should have asked…”

“You did nothing wrong, Crowley.” Aziraphale sniffles. “It has been a long time since I felt so…” 

“Cherished?” Crowley offers when Aziraphale can't seem to find the word. He reaches out, the tips of his fingers just barely brushing the angels shoulder. “Because I do, I cherish you, angel.”

”And I You, my dear.” Aziraphale says, voice thick with emotion. He turns to meet Crowley’s yellow eyes, and is absolutely floored by the adoration he finds there. It’s not new by any means, but it hits him squarely in the chest. “Sorry for being such a mess.”

“Nonsense, you’re fine,” He says, letting his hand rest fully on the angels shoulder, thumb brushing over the curve. It makes Aziraphale break out in goosebumps. “Would you like me to keep going?”

“Yes.”Aziraphale says, voice quiet, his world narrowed down to Crowley’s hand on his shoulder, his golden eyes. ”Please.”

By the time Crowley had finally declared him properly bathed, he had regained his composure. 

“Now for the preening,” Crowley says, rubbing his hands together excitedly. He loved preening his own feathers, it was a task he could lose himself in for hours. He knew it was going to be heavenly to preen Aziraphales. 

“Really, Crowley, you don’t have to trouble yourself.” Aziraphale turns in the tub, almost smacking Crowley square in the face with his still damp wing. “What you’ve done already is more than sufficient. I feel so much better than I have in a long time.”

“It’s not a proper groom if you don’t preen, angel.” Crowley says, leaving no room for arguments. He sits down on a small stool that had definitely not been there a moment ago. “Now give me your wing.”

“Really, you don’t have to.” Aziraphale starts to say, but Crowley fixes him with a glare, which has him fully extending a wing over the edge of the tub, draping it across Crowley lap. The demon wastes no time, starting at the primary’s and working in. He smooths his fingers down each feather, until all of the barbs catch and knit back together, working preen oil into them as he goes. Occasionally he finds a feather that’s a bit beyond repair, and he’ll stop and ask the angel of it’s ok to remove it. 

“I don’t know how you‘ve managed to do anything with all these broken feathers.” Crowley says, after removing the fifth damaged feather. “If one of mine so much as bends the wrong way I’m useless until I can fix it.”

“After a few while, I was able to tune it out, somewhat.” Aziraphale says sadly. “Most if it anyway, if I kept busy.”

“Did they ever hurt?” Crowley asks, his voice quiet, barely audible over the swishing of feathers. 

“Quite often, these last few decades.” Aziraphale admits, and Crowley curses heaven for neglecting one of their own. 

They lapse back into comfortable silence. Crowley stopping frequently to check that his angel is still doing ok, that he’s not being to rough. 

“You’re doing perfectly, dear.”

“Water still good?”

“Surprising, it’s still the perfect temperature for bathing.” Aziraphale says with a smirk. He’s draped himself over the edge of the tube, head resting on an arm. He honestly can’t remember the last time he’d felt so utterly blissed out. “Thank you,” He says knowing perfectly well Crowley was keeping the water at the perfect temperature. 

He must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing Aziraphale knows, Crowley is shaking his shoulder. 

“Hmm, wha?” He slurs, blinking up at the demon. 

“Feeling good? .” Crowley says with a fond smile for the sleepy angel. “You never sleep.”

Aziraphale nods slowly, he felt so good, like he was drunk on Crowley’s touch.

“Come on, angel, I think you’ve been in the bath long enough.” He says, taking Aziraphale’s hand and helping him up. “Watch you’re wings, don’t go dipping them back in.” 

With a stern look, the water still clinging to Aziraphale’s body evaporates, and a snap puts him into some comfy flannel pajama bottoms. Crowley purposeful leaves him shirt free, he wasn’t letting the angel hide away his wings for at least a whole day. 

Leaving the bathroom, Aziraphales eyes go wide as he passes the mirror. “Crowley…” he says, bringing one wing around him, running a finger along one of his primaries. “They haven’t looked this nice in so long, thank you so much.” His wings were smooth and clean, his freckled ivory feathers almost glowing in the bathroom light. 

“They smell of you, my dear.” Aziraphale says, surprise coloring his voice. He presses his nose into his feathers and breathes deep. He finds that it’s oddly comforting, in a way it really should not have been. A way that should be worrying. 

An angel carrying the scent of a demon around would probably get the wrong people talking. But in the moment, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Instead he felt comforted by the idea that he’d be surrounded by Crowley’s scent, even if he left the shop. 

“Ngk,” Crowley said, looking a little nervous. He worried that this might have been crossing a line, going to fast. “Your feathers were so dry. I used some of my own oil to help. I apologize if it’s offensive. Should have asked before I did it, but you were napping, and looked so peaceful...”

“Crowley, it’s ok.” Aziraphale says quickly, cutting off his demons nervous rambling. He turns, facing the demon with a smile, a faint blush across his cheeks as he raises a hand and cups Crowley’s cheek. “I quite like it.”

“Really?” Crowley asks, leaning into Aziraphale’s touch. His hand twitch at his side, as the angel leans in closer, unsure of what to do with them. He ends up settling them lightly on Aziraphale’s soft waist. 

His heart is beating rapidly against his ribs. His eyes slip closed against his will and all he can smell is his and Aziraphales mingled scents. That was something he could definitely get used too. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale sighs, closing the last couple inches and pressing his lips to Crowley’s in a chaste kiss. 

Crowley melts into it immediately, pulling Azirphale flush against him. The kiss ends as quickly as it started, both beings rather dazed as eyes flutter open. 

“Angel,” Crowley sighs happily, cheeks flushed as he rests his forehead against the angels. As kisses go, that was the tamest but also the best he’d had. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for that?”

“I have an idea.” Aziraphale says, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s neck. “Sorry you’ve had to wait so long.”

“It was worth it, Angel. I’d wait forever for you.”


End file.
